Scent of a Woman
by nanniships
Summary: Blake is investigating a mystery close to home, only to discover that the more things change, the more they stay the same...only better.


Scent of a Woman

Of course he noticed the difference when his face was buried in the back of her neck while she was scolding him to let her get about finishing making lunch. He nuzzled deeper and took a deep breath.

"What are you doing, Lucien?" she demanded, shaking her head at the tickling sensation.

When he ignored her and began running his nose behind her ear, she twisted in his arms and waved a slice of ham threateningly at him. He grinned and took a bite from it.

"You're wearing a different scent," he told her as he chewed. "Did you change your perfume?"

"It's probably just the mustard," she replied with an irritated huff, thrusting the bitten piece of ham into his hand and pushing him lightly away from her.

"New soap?" he asked, ignoring the mustard comment.

"Out," she ordered firmly, pointing towards the doorway of the kitchen.

He stood his ground for a moment, shifting off only when she began to slice the bread with what he thought was unnecessary vigor. She glared at him with exasperation when he leaned forward again and took a deep breath. Unfortunately, all he could smell was ham.

"Something changed," he said stubbornly.

"Nothing has changed," she said firmly.

"I don't believe you," he replied confidently. "You just don't want to tell me."

"Fine," she replied with an expressive roll of her eyes, turning back to the sandwiches. "Go figure it out, then. I'll call you when lunch is ready."

Lucien stole one last kiss on the back of her neck and sidled out of the kitchen. He glanced back in time to catch her watching him with that lovely, irritated smirk he was so enamored of. Suppressing his desire to stroll back and kiss it off, he took breath to clear the ham from his nostrils and set off determinately to the bathroom they shared.

"It's probably a new bath salt," he muttered to himself, eyes scanning the shelf where she kept her mysterious and delicate nostrums. Opening a jar at random, he sniffed cautiously, not wanting a nose full of scented crystals. When that attempt turned up nothing he hadn't smelled before, he methodically made his way through two others to no success.

"Perhaps she's combined them for something new?" he said aloud. Matthew, who was stumping past on his way to the kitchen for lunch, stopped at his voice and peered in to observe his friend empty a soap dish by flinging the bar into the bin and begin carefully measuring out bath crystals from three different jars, mixing them precisely with his little finger. He opened his mouth to enquire, thought better of it, and continued his slow stroll down the hall.

After trying several combinations and coming up blank, Lucien idly rubbed his nose and glanced around the bathroom, hoping to see a new cream or shampoo. Grimacing at the irritation in his nostrils from a too vigorous sniff of his bath salts concoction, he blew his nose vigorously into his handkerchief. One last brainwave had him gently mixing the bath salts into a sink full of warm water, wondering if a catalyst was necessary for the effect.

"Lucien, what are you doing?" Jean's amused voice floated from the doorway. She stepped closer and peered into the sink and then at the container he was still holding. "Have you dumped away all my bath salts?"

"Not all of them," he mumbled.

"I just bought that lavender!" she snapped. "It was nearly full!"

"I'll replace them, darling," he assured her. "I promise."

"You'd better," she warned, narrowing her eyes at the twitch at the corner of his mouth.

"Scout's honor."

"Like you were ever a Scout," she muttered, giving him one last glare and striding angrily towards the kitchen. He took a moment to appreciate the view and to try to hear what she said to Matthew when she got there. All he could make out was Matthew's guffaw.

Undeterred, Lucien headed off to their bedroom and made a beeline to Jean's vanity. Careful not to disturb anything, he picked up each cosmetic for a quick sniff. But none of the various spreads and powders revealed a secret.

Giving an impatient huff, he sat down heavily in the chair next to the vanity and gazed unseeing at the neatly organized spread on the table top. For a moment, he considered that perhaps she had grown a new type of flower in the sunroom and almost got up to go check. Then he realized that he probably wouldn't know if anything out was new, or even what the old ones were.

As he tapped his fingers on the vanity, his eye fell on the small drawer he'd neglected to search. With a triumphant grin, he quickly yanked it open. The clatter of a dozen lip stick canisters and mostly empty jars made him wince and glance warily at the door to the bedroom. When no Jean appeared at the door with crossed arms and raised eyebrow, he gave the clutter a cursory glance.

"So this is where lipstick goes to die," he mumbled, grabbing one and uncapping it to reveal a mere nub of color remaining. "Why does she bloody _keep_ all of this?"

As he began to close the drawer, he caught a glimpse of a small bottle that looked quite full, tucked away in the back. With another quick glance at the door, he fished it out gingerly and carefully pulled the stopper.

The fragrance that filled his nose instantly transported him back to their all too brief honeymoon. The third night of it, to be precise. The night that they actually left the hotel room for any length of time to go out for something other than room service. The restaurant had been dimly lit, mostly by small, red glassed lamps at each table. And there had been a piano playing in the background. He had no idea what they had ordered, or if he'd even finished his dinner. All he could remember was the warm, beguiling scent that had wafted across the table, reminding him of lemon drops and suede and something sharper- comfort vying with danger. He remembered bringing his hand to his face when the food was brought and they'd had to let go of each other's hands, hoping for a bit of the scent to have transferred from her fingers to his.

It wasn't until he was helping her on with her coat at the coatcheck that he received the full effect and had been unable to stop himself from burying his face into the back of her neck. Rather than pretend to scold him, Jean had leaned back and bent her head forward. They hadn't been able to get back to the hotel fast enough. And he had searched diligently...slowly...until he had found every pulse point, every discrete place, where Jean had dabbed that perfume. He'd fallen asleep with her hair draped over his face and had only reluctantly abandoned the bed in the morning, knowing that the lingering scent would be gone when the sheets were changed while they were out that day.

Closing his eyes, he took one last breath. When he opened them, Jean was sitting on the bed, watching him with an indulgent smile.

"Found that new scent yet?" she asked.

"Found an old one," he replied as he gently replaced the stopper. "Why don't you ever wear this?"

"It's only for special occasions."

"Clearly, I need to come up with more special occasions."

"Hmmm, does lunch count? Because it's ready."

Grinning widely, Lucien passed the bottle over to her and watched hungrily as she daintily touched the stopper to the skin behind each ear.

"There," she said, replacing the stopper and standing up to put it back into the drawer. "Now...can we eat? Or do you have more things to sniff?"

"Yes," he replied, pulling her down onto his lap and capturing her lips before beginning to kiss his way down her jaw and up to her ear. Jean made no objection, tightening her hold at the back of his neck and smiling as he nuzzled behind her ear with a groan.

"Matthew will be ready to eat," she whispered just before he made for her lips again. This time his groan was a frustrated one.

"Let him start without us," he growled, trying for another kiss. Jean allowed him a brief one before taking his head in her hands and looking into his eyes.

"This is why I don't wear this scent more often," she informed him teasingly.

"This is why you should wear this scent more often," he replied.

An awkward throat clearing made them both look quickly around at the open door.

"If it's all the same to you," Matthew said with a smirk, "I'll go ahead and eat, shall I?"

"Go ahead, Matthew. We'll be right there," Jean told him calmly, as if being caught out sitting in her husband's lap in a passionate clinch was no unusual thing. She quieted the beginning of Lucien's objection with a stern glance.

"I haven't found that new scent yet," he said with a heavy sigh, giving Jean's bum a gentle push as she climbed gracefully off of his lap.

"That's because there isn't one to find."

"I could swear that you've got something new."

"Well, I don't. It's the same everyday make-up and perfume I've always worn, Lucien. Now come and eat your lunch."

"Ham sandwiches would be a waste of that perfume you're wearing right now."

"It will give you something to think about for later, won't it," she replied with a smile.

He smiled back and took a moment to take a few deep breaths and straighten his clothes a bit. When he joined them in the kitchen for lunch, he ignored Matthew's ribbing about starting up his own cosmetics company and watched Jean as she moved around the kitchen and sat at the table next to him, the faint scent of her perfume surrounding him. He barely tasted the sandwich.

"Don't start," she warned, wiping down the plates as he stepped up behind her and wrapped his arms around her waist. "Matthew's just in the living room."

"I think I've figured out your new scent," he murmured into her hair.

"Lucien, I told you-"

"It's not you that's changed anything," he interrupted. "It's me." Jean paused and half turned in his arms.

"What are you on about?"

"You've always smelled lovely," he continued, "Intoxicating, especially when I had no right to be intoxicated."

"You've never had trouble being intoxicated, Lucien," she teased, stroking his face with her wet hand before turning back to the sink. Lucien hugged her harder.

"You'd walk by when I was in a mood and just the briefest touch of your scent would help clear my mind."

"Oh?"

"Nothing has changed in that respect, but now its not just the scent of a woman..." He turned her around from the sink to face him. "It's the scent of my wife. And it's even more intoxicating and calming and beautiful than ever."

"You weren't all that calm in our bedroom before lunch," she murmured before bringing his head down and kissing him fiercely.

Matthew wandered into the kitchen for a glass of water, but decided a post prandial stroll might serve him better.

"Wonder if Blake's got a new cologne?" he mused to himself as he got his hat and quietly slipped through the door past the oblivious couple. "Something smells a bit different."


End file.
